


It's Cold In Hell

by whoknows



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Fix-it fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9566324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows
Summary: The door bangs open with a satisfyingly loud noise. Mick strolls into the room, gun hoisted over his shoulder, uncaring of who might be waiting to ambush him.He’s tired of ambushes. Let them try it if they want. It’s been too long since he’s properly burned anything anyway.“Think you’ve got something of mine in here,” he drawls. There’s only a handful of people in the room, doctors and technicians by the looks of things. Mick had made his way through the real security on the way in, and part of him is still reveling in it, the violence and the chaos.It had been fun. Not as much fun as being able to set the entire building on fire, but there’s something here he’s come for and he’s not leaving until he gets it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completely, 100% inspired by every single thing [dragonspell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell) has written in this fandom. Leonard Snart isn't dead because I said so.

The door bangs open with a satisfyingly loud noise. Mick strolls into the room, gun hoisted over his shoulder, uncaring of who might be waiting to ambush him.

He’s tired of ambushes. Let them try it if they want. It’s been too long since he’s properly burned anything anyway.

“Think you’ve got something of mine in here,” he drawls. There’s only a handful of people in the room, doctors and technicians by the looks of things. Mick had made his way through the real security on the way in, and part of him is still reveling in it, the violence and the chaos.

It had been fun. Not as much fun as being able to set the entire building on fire, but there’s something here he’s come for and he’s not leaving until he gets it.

There’s a man standing tall in the center of the room, wearing a fancy white coat as though that’s going to do anything to stop Mick from killing him. “You have to know there’s no way we’re going to allow you to leave with him.”

Maybe he’ll kill fancy doctor guy last. Really make him suffer. Take his time with him. The thought makes him smile, a little bloody, entirely vengeful.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, see,” he says, nodding over to the glass cell he hasn’t really let himself look at yet. “That’s mine, been mine since he was fourteen and staring down the wrong end of a shank and decided that keeping me was in his own best interest. Bought and paid for in blood, sweat and tears, and ain’t no return policy gonna let me give him back now.”

Behind the glass - the thick, tempered glass - Leonard’s propped up on a tiny bed, one arm handcuffed above his head to the rail. His eyes are open and looking in Mick’s direction but they’re clouded, distracted. Ain’t no way he’s lying in that room perfectly sober still attached to a handcuff when he’s got an entire arm free. Not Mick’s Len.

They’ve drugged him, then. The blood from Mick’s split lip is spilling into his mouth, filling it with the taste of iron. Good. Maybe he’ll spit it in their faces before he kills them, shower them in someone else’s blood for real.

“Now, we could do this the hard way,” Mick continues, gun still propped up on his shoulder. “I’d really, _really_ like to do it the hard way, but seeing as how you’ve got something I want I’m willing to make it quick, too.”

“You can’t get out of here,” the doctor says, finding his courage and crossing his arms over his chest. “It isn’t possible.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mick watches Leonard stretch on the cot, rolling slowly onto his side. He’s watching Mick right back, cataloging every move he makes, and it’s still through sleepy eyes, sure, but Leonard’s never not had a plan in his entire life, Mick’s pretty sure. Even if it is a shitty and ill-advised one that’s more likely to end in failure than anything else.

“Impossible’s a specialty of Len’s,” Mick says, nodding towards the cell. “He tell you about how we met in juvie? The real story, I mean, not the pretty little tale he spins to keep people like you on your toes.”

No, of course he didn’t. Len probably hasn’t told that story to anyone in his entire life. Len believes in keeping all of his cards close to his chest, and he lies like he breathes, easy and automatic. There’s a hundred versions of that story floating around out there, all products of Len’s imagination, some more true than others.

Mick, on the other hand, believes in using brutal honesty as a weapon. Especially before he kills someone.

“Bet he told you that there were a bunch of kids with a couple of shanks,” Mick says, waving the heat gun at the doctor when he decides to move an inch to his right. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Anyway, as I was saying, he probably told you that there were some assholes with shanks who got the jump on him. And that’s true, sure, but he probably didn’t tell you that he annoyed ‘em into doing it. Never quits with the puns.”

They’d all been prison themed. Fourteen and still tiny, Len hadn’t been able to stop running his mouth then anymore than he can now. Or could, before he got himself blown into millions of little pieces and scattered all over the place. Or – whatever. Mick’s brain hurts. Time travel’s a bitch.

Mick had thought they were funny, the puns. They had been the only good thing about prison, that and watching this tiny punk antagonize guys twice his size like he couldn’t help himself. They were the entire reason Mick had stepped in at all. Without Leonard’s smart mouth around he wouldn’t have had any entertainment.

“Why are you telling us all of this?” the doctor asks. He’s aiming for calm but the tremble in his fingers betrays him. “If you think you’re getting out of here there’s no need for this.”

Mick bares his teeth in the doctor’s direction. It’s not quite a grin. “Therapy,” he says, dragging a chair over with a foot and sinking down into it, keeping the gun idly pointed in the doctor’s direction. He’s the ringleader here, Mick’s pretty sure. “You’ve had him here for eight months and I thought I was going crazy, hallucinating him every time I turned around because he was supposed to be _dead_.”

Yeah, Mick hasn’t forgotten that part. Eight months without your partner in crime is eight months too long. Fuck Leonard for sacrificing himself anyway.

“I hated him at first,” Mick says thoughtfully, propping his free arm up on the nearest table and leaning back in the chair. “So fucking irritating, always popping up in places I didn’t expect him to be, stealing shit right out of people’s pockets and expecting me to cover his ass when he got caught. That was back before he got real good at it so he used to get caught a lot, too.”

There’s a lot of things Mick could say about juvie, but it had been the place Len had learned how to pickpocket properly, and that particular skill has come in handy many times over the years.

“Spent a lot of time cooped up together over the years, me and him,” Mick continues. “Took me a while to figure out that he’d been leading me around by the dick pretty much since we met.” 

If Leonard was feeling like himself, this would be the part where he’d snort and say _pretty much the day we met?_ all dry and sarcastic.

If Leonard was feeling like himself, though, he’d never have let Mick get this far. They also wouldn’t be in this situation. Leonard’s gotten himself out of more tight situations than anyone else Mick has ever met.

He looks over at the cell, slams his fist against the table once and bellows, “Lenny, put your damn tits away!”

Leonard pulls his shirt back down, tucking his fingers between his knees. Definitely drugged – there’s no way he would have been playing with himself like that if he wasn’t, even knowing that Mick’s going to burn all these motherfuckers to the ground. Must be something to make him horny and easy to control. Fuck knows he wouldn’t be this placid otherwise.

“Could have killed him more times than I can count,” Mick says, back on track. “ _Wanted_ to kill him more times than I can count, almost did, had plenty of opportunities to. You know why I never did?”

He’s mostly been talking to himself this entire time. He directs the question at the good doctor.

“I – ” the doctor starts, face two shades paler than it had been when Mick had first burst into the room, and Mick realizes that he doesn’t give a shit what the doctor has to say, never had.

“Because he’s _mine_ , no matter how many times he stabs me in the back, no matter how many times he betrays me and gives up his life, and I’m always, _always_ coming back for him.”

It’s him and Leonard, now and always. Mick doesn’t even give a shit whether Leonard wants it that way anymore or not – he lost his right to have a vote when he went and got himself blown up. 

The doctor moves. So does Mick. 

Everything goes up in flames.

 

“You couldn’t have figured out what they dosed him with before setting everything on fire?” Sara asks, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks down at Leonard’s unconscious body.

Mick grunts, reaching out to poke Leonard’s lax face. Nothing. “What does it matter, he’ll wake up eventually,” he grumbles. He’s pretty sure of that, anyway. Leonard hadn’t actually passed out until they’d gotten to fresh air, and that probably makes sense. Fresh air after eight months without is probably a shock to the system.

He’s been unconscious for the past three hours. Mick’s got a concussion, but it’s a mild one. Other than that, they’re both fine.

Sara’s making a face that says she wants to dispute that claim, and just outside the med bay the rest of the team is hovering around, failing at being inconspicuous. Mick doesn’t care about any of them.

“You should go get some rest,” Sara says instead, watching Mick watch Len. “We can all take turns monitoring him while you sleep.”

There’s no reason for anyone to monitor him. Gideon would tell them if there was something wrong, and it’s not like there’s anywhere on this damn ship to have some privacy.

“I’m not leaving him,” Mick says. It’s been eight months. _Eight fucking months_.

Sara doesn’t push it, leaving the room quietly. Mick goes back to watching Leonard sleep and thinks about all the things he’s going to do once Len finally wakes up.

A lot of them involve his fist in Leonard’s face at some point or another.

 

At first, Mick thinks he’s dreaming. It’s not an entirely unpleasant dream – rope tight around his right wrist, warm fingers moving quick on his skin, a familiar scent in his nose.

It’s actually the smell that wakes Mick up real fast. He comes up swinging, left hand curled into a fist, more instinct than anything. He makes contact but it’s barely more than a graze, and his own momentum sends them both falling off the side of the med bay bed.

“Mick!” Leonard shouts, trying to take advantage of the arm Mick’s got twisted up behind him and slip away.

Mick gets a hold of his right leg and yanks him back before he can get anywhere, and just like that they’re full on brawling like they’re teenagers again, back when both of them barely knew how to hold their own in a fight. It’s wild, unpredictable, and entirely dishonest. They haven’t fought like this in years.

The thought makes Mick pause, long enough for Leonard to elbow him in the jaw and get his feet back under him. They’ve had more fights than Mick can count, a lot of them physical, but this, _scrabbling_ , that’s shit they don’t do anymore. Haven’t done since they were in juvie and Mick couldn’t control his emotions for shit and Leonard couldn’t control his reaction to Mick’s emotions for shit and everything ended up spilling out exactly like this.

“Mick,” Len says again, holding his hands up in front of him like he doesn’t want to have to hit Mick again, wary.

The last thing Mick is is calm. His left hand doesn’t shake as he reaches up to untie the knot Leonard made, because this shit, this shit Mick can do. Len can lie, Len can cheat, Len could even yell and scream and Mick would still get what’s coming to him.

“Mick, don’t do that,” Leonard says, backing up a step and making it look like he hasn’t moved at all. He’s skinnier now then he was eight months ago, and it makes Mick mad. Fucking douchebag time travel doctors take him and they can’t even bother to keep him fed properly? What kind of shit is that?

“I’m gonna kill you,” Mick says pleasantly, letting the rope fall from his wrist and standing up, cracking his back.

Leonard takes another step back, less effortless this time. “Nice to know you were willing to put in all that effort just to make sure I stay dead,” he says, eyes flickering to a spot over Mick’s left shoulder.

Jesus fuck, does he really think Mick is going to fall for that? That he doesn’t know Leonard better after all these years, that he doesn’t know that’s a move? Meant to mislead his opponent, make them think he’s gonna move left when he’s really going to do something entirely different? He’s gone soft in that eight months if he thinks Mick doesn’t see right through him.

“You know how this is gonna end, right?” Mick asks, taking two steps forward to make up for the ones Len took back. “Can’t remember a time you ever beat me in a fight, Lenny.”

Leonard’s feet are bare. They move soundlessly against the floor, but Mick likes that, that he’s not wearing shoes. Means he won’t be able to run as far if he does get away.

Although if he thinks there’s anywhere on this ship he can run that Mick won’t follow him he’s a lot stupider than Mick thought. Mick went to the literal end of the universe to get him back, he’s not going to stop because there’s a couple doors between them.

“Really?” Leonard asks, arching an eyebrow. He stops moving. “The way I remember it, there was a few times – ”

Mick lunges at him, cutting him off before he can get the rest of the sentence out. He knows the way that sentence would end, remembers every single time he’s let Leonard win a fight, and now is not the time for reminiscing.

They go back to rolling around on the floor, throwing punches and insults, and Mick’s heart is beating fast in his chest.

“Why did I not know that I would come back to the two of you having it out?” Sara wonders from behind them.

Mick grunts, getting an arm around Leonard’s neck and yanking him backwards. “Shut it, Lance.”

Leonard struggles for a few more seconds before going limp in Mick’s grip. Both his hands are on Mick’s forearm. “Mick,” is all he says, and it’s as much of an apology as Mick is going to get.

Mick kisses him hard, right against Len’s half open mouth.

Then he pulls back and punches Leonard right in the face. Bastard had it coming.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://crazyupsetter.tumblr.com/), if anyone is interested.


End file.
